Wedding Bells
by Riza's Cupcakes
Summary: Roy and Riza struggle to reconcile their relationship with her impending marriage to a foreign dignitary.


Even if the meeting had taken place in the summer, this room still could not have managed to achieve a greater level of stuffiness than this. Roy assumed it was something that came with the territory of working as a general in Central and he could only hope that he would be allowed back to East City before it rubbed off on him. He had already been stuck here for a month, dealing with endless meetings regarding the situation with Drachma while a lower-ranked general took temporary command of Eastern Headquarters in his place. He had been here so long, in fact, that Fuhrer Grumman had had rooms prepared in his own mansion for Roy and Riza, whose presence was the only thing that kept Roy from going completely stir crazy. Even if she wasn't allowed into these meetings, she would be waiting for him in his office, and the large mansion afforded enough privacy for the two to talk late into the night, discussing all the things they didn't dare speak of in public.

When Grumman entered the room, he had dark circles under his eyes. Apparently Roy and Riza hadn't been the only two who had stayed up half the night. Grumman sat with his face in his hands for several minutes before looking up, wearing a somber expression that looked completely alien on his features. "Gentlemen, I'm afraid we're nearly out of options. If you don't mind, I would like to speak to General Mustang alone."

A few of the others sent suspicious glares in Roy's direction as they filed out of the meeting room, but Roy ignored them. It was nothing new. At thirty-five, he was the highest-ranked officer in Amestris aside from Grumman himself, so envy only ever managed to glance off him these days. The expression on Grumman's face, however, left Roy with a knot in his stomach. He had never seen the Fuhrer look so defeated. Silence stretched between them until Roy couldn't take it anymore.

"Sir," he said at length, "what did you need to tell me?"

Grumman adjusted his glasses before meeting Roy's eyes for the first time since entering the room. "I received a final message from the Czar."

"Final…?" Roy said, the knot in his stomach tightening.

"He gave me one last offer, an ultimatum if you will." With surprisingly unsteady hands, Grumman reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope that bore the national seal of Drachma, now broken. As he pushed it toward Roy, he said, "The Czar has a son about your age, unwed. He learned recently that I have an unwed granddaughter."

This time, it was Roy's heart that seized painfully as he realized where this was heading. "He wants his son to marry Hawkeye."

"Yes, that is the gist of the letter," Grumman said sadly. "But seeing as I have no desire to use her as a pawn, it looks like we have only one choice. War is inevitable."

"After everything we've done to demilitarize, do you think we stand a chance against them?" Roy asked.

Grumman shook his head. "Impossible to say. Briggs will put up a fight, but this will hardly be the kind of border skirmish they've faced in the past. I'm afraid it's time to prepare for the worst."

"Then why did you ask the other generals to leave?" Roy asked. "Shouldn't they know?"

"Not yet. We still have a little time, seeing as the Czar is awaiting a response to this letter before making his decision. I didn't think any of them had the right to know about the alternative offer," Grumman said.

"Maybe they don't, but surely Hawkeye does. She is the one with a personal stake in the matter, after all." Roy crossed his arms and sat back in the chair, matching Grumman's calculating stare with one of his own.

Grumman sighed. "I suppose you're right. Would you go get her? Bring tea, too. This won't be an easy conversation."

"Yes, sir. I'll go get her." Roy left the room and headed toward his office; the hallway seemed to warp around him, distorting the people he passed. If anyone spoke to him, he was none the wiser, since all the words he overheard sounded like scrambled nonsense. How could the Czar treat Riza like a bargaining chip? How could five years' hard work come crumbling down like this? As soon as he entered the office, Riza was at his side with a file under one arm. It fell to the floor when she noticed his grim expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Do you need to lie down?" With a hand on his elbow, she guided him to one of the plush sofas and helped him onto it. He lay down just as she suggested and covered his eyes with his forearm. Riza perched on the arm of the sofa, and even though he couldn't see her, Roy knew she was frowning.

"The Fuhrer wants to meet with us. He says to bring tea."

"There's something else," she said, perceptive as ever.

Roy squeezed his eyes shut tighter. "He should be the one to tell you."

"Then you should relax while I make the tea," she said. He felt her hand beside his shoulder as she thought better of touching it. A part of him wished she had; he could use the reassurance even if she was the one who deserved it more.

When Riza returned, Roy was on his feet again, determined to conceal his own fears for Riza's sake. Even though she had seen them already, he needed to be strong for her until they were safely back at the mansion. It wouldn't do for them to fall apart before they were away from this place and able to comfort each other properly. They made their way back to the meeting room, where Grumman had slumped forward into his hands once more, the letter open on the table beside him.

"Fuhrer Grumman, sir," Roy said as he closed the door behind Riza. She set the tray on the table and Grumman looked up.

"Pour the tea first, my dear," he said. "You'll want something warm to drink."

Riza raised her eyebrow at the familiarity with which he addressed her, but she did as he asked without a word. When the three of them were seated, steam curling out of each of their mugs, Grumman passed the letter to Riza. She read it with an unchanging expression.

"Ridiculous, don't you think?" Roy said once she had finished, but she ignored him.

To Grumman, she said, "I'll do it."

Hours later—when the sun was down and only lamplight illuminated the figure on the window seat in Grumman's library—Roy was still reeling from her decision. He could judge from the stiffness in her back and the way her bare toes curled on the cushion as her fingers curled and uncurled in Hayate's fur that she was taking it just as hard. Elsewhere in the lonely mansion, Grumman was finishing up his reply to the Czar. Roy doubted any of them would sleep well tonight.

"I brought you some cocoa," Roy said as he approached the window.

Riza turned her head to look at him then patted the seat beside her. "Thanks," she said as she accepted the oversized mug Roy held out to her.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"How do you expect?" she shot back. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the steam rising from her cocoa. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

"No, it wasn't. I should have known better than to ask." Scanning the room out of habit to be certain they were alone, Roy placed a hand on her knee. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"You know better than anyone that I am willing to sacrifice my own happiness for the sake of this country. I'm not about to undo everything we have worked so hard to achieve just for my own selfish interests." Her hands tightened around the mug. "You already know that I sacrificed the right to marry the man I love the moment I set foot in your office."

"I know that, but dammit, Riza, we need you here," Roy said.

"No, that's not it." She placed one of her hands on his cheek, tilting his face until he looked her in the eye. "You're the one who needs me, but you can do more with Drachma as an ally than you could with a freshly war-torn country."

He wanted to tell her that none of that meant anything without her by his side, that this was their dream—not just his. But all he could do with the rapidly growing lump in his throat was to reach up and catch a strand of her hair between his fingers, let it slip between them as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. She was slipping between his fingers as well. They had always known their relationship was little more than sand in an hourglass, but he had never expected another man to come between them, nor had he expected for their time together to run out so soon.

"Roy," she said softly. Her eyes shone in the dim light, and the sadness in them broke his heart all over again. "We have to end this."

"I know—but not tonight. Please not yet. I—I'm not ready." Roy leaned into Riza's hand, and to his relief, she did not pull it away.

"Neither am I, but it will be easier if we distance ourselves. It will only make it harder to say goodbye if we don't." But then she was in his arms, her face buried in the crook of his neck as he held her, careful not to disturb the mug she had placed on the bench beside them. As he stroked her back, he realized that she was holding him, too: her arms tight around the back of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. Had it really been only this morning that she had been teasing him about needing to get it cut again? It felt as though weeks had passed since then.

Hayate nosed up from Riza's lap to join in the embrace and Riza half-laughed, half-hiccoughed. "You'll take care of him, won't you? I don't think he'd like it in Drachma."

"Of course," Roy said, squeezing Riza tighter as Hayate licked his face. "He's going to miss you almost as much as I will. We're going to need each other, aren't we, boy?"

Hayate gave a short bark and licked Roy's face again. He felt Riza smile against his neck. It was the barest twitch of her lips, but he could tell what it was, and considering how few and far between even those smiles would be in the coming months before he lost her forever, he treasured it.

The pair readjusted their positions until Riza was nestled between Roy's legs, her back against his chest and his arms around her stomach as she sipped her cocoa. Outside the window, barely visible through the glare from the lamplight, tiny snowflakes drifted past. If it was already snowing in Central, he could only hope that the weather in Drachma was bad enough to delay the inevitable.

In the morning, Roy woke with Riza's legs tangled around his for the first time since leaving the East. Their bodies were sticky with sweat beneath the down comforter and silk sheets, and it was such a reassuring familiarity that he could almost push the previous day's events from his mind. Almost. They came back in a torrent of images: heavy snow on windowsills and bearskin rugs and Riza waking up in some other man's arms, carrying some other man's child within her. It was too much. He held her closer in order to ground himself in this moment, when they still belonged to each other. She was real in his arms, warm and soft and still breathing deeply. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. No matter whose arms she woke up in, as long as she was breathing, it would be enough. Her heart would belong to him until the day it stopped beating, as his would to her. Distances and marriage vows be damned.

She was awake now: he could feel her stirring in his embrace. Her eyes shot open wide, but her expression softened when she recognized him. With slightly parted lips, she kissed him good morning. Just as Roy moved to deepen the kiss, she froze and he stopped, puzzled. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She gave him a pointed look. Of course she wasn't okay. "I should go. If someone were to catch us…"

"I understand," Roy said. He let her go and watched as she put her pajamas on. He returned her wave as she left the room and he rolled onto his back, resting his arms beneath his head. There would be another meeting today: an announcement to declare the situation resolved. And then the whispers would start up: people wondering about how he felt losing his beloved subordinate to some foreign dignitary. That damned Czar. What right did he have to suggest such a thing? With gritted teeth, Roy forced himself to get out of bed before thoughts of regicide could overwhelm him.

The thoughts were harder to keep at bay in the morning's meeting. While the other generals expressed relief that they would be able to stay with their families, Roy stared at the table. All of this came at the cost of the most important member of his. A hand on his shoulder startled him from his moping and he looked up to find the room empty and Grumman beside him. "Go home, son. Take a couple of days off. I can tell you're hurting, and I'm sure Riza is too."

"I don't think that would be appropriate, sir. Your implication is that our relationship is something other than commander and—"

"No need for formalities here, General. I always said you two would get married one day, but now…" Grumman sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Captain Hawkeye should have received her discharge by now. Strictly speaking, she is no longer your subordinate."

Roy's lips twitched into a wry smile that was more akin to a grimace. "What does it matter? She's been promised to another man, so it would still be inappropriate to act on any feelings I may or may not have."

Grumman laughed and clapped Roy on the shoulder again. "You say that like the top brass isn't full of philandering bastards. I'm willing to bet half the men who just left know each other's wives better than their own. I'd wager the rest are equally well acquainted with those 'sisters' of yours."

"Well, Capt—Hawk— _Riza_ has more honor in her little toe than all of them combined," Roy said.

Grumman sighed. "I'm not trying to argue with you. I gave you an order, Mustang. Go home and take care of my granddaughter."

"Yes, sir." Roy stood and saluted before leaving the room. His office was empty when he arrived, and for the first time, he felt the true weight of Riza's departure. Her things were gone, and the room felt several degrees colder for it. This wasn't like before, when he had known she would return to his side eventual, when he had known he would see her in the cafeteria or perhaps run into her by chance. As he put on his coat, he wondered if he would see her again after she left. He had no idea how long it took to plan a political wedding, but he knew that it wouldn't take nearly as long as he hoped it would. There was precious little time left for him to spend with Riza and he planned to make the most of it.

The mansion was quiet when he returned, and he found Riza in the kitchen, elbows on the counter as she stared down into her tea. She didn't seem to hear Roy enter the room and he cleared his throat to draw her attention. She mumbled a greeting without looking up.

"Grumman told me what happened," Roy said, crossing the room to sit on the counter beside Riza's cup. Her eyes came into focus and she turned almost mechanically.

"I tried to tell them I wanted to keep my job until the wedding," she said. "They said it might send the wrong idea."

Placing a hesitant hand on hers, Roy said, "At least it gives us more time together. We don't have to keep up appearances anymore."

She snorted. "I can see the headlines now. 'Future bride of Drachman prince begins illicit relationship with former commander.' People are talking enough as it is."

"I'm not asking you for public consummation, Riza. I just wanted to ask you to go for a walk with me. Fresh air will help both of us." Roy squeezed her hand and Riza looked back down at her tea, frowning.

"I'll consider it," she said.

That was enough for Roy, and he hopped off the counter to make lunch. While Riza sipped her tea, Roy heated up what was left of last night's stew and carried the bowls to the table. Riza followed him, clutching her mug like a lifeline. The table in the dining room was larger than the table in the meeting room at headquarters, but this room felt much cozier. Once he had set the two bowls in front of adjacent chairs, he pulled a glove from his pocket and started a fire in the oversized hearth at the end of the room. As they started into their meal, Roy scooted his chair closer to Riza's until their knees touched. Though she said nothing, and though her tiny smile didn't quite reach her eyes, he could tell that she was grateful in spite of her reservations about continuing their relationship.

They left their dishes in the sink. Riza had decided that Roy was right about the walk, so they bundled up and left the mansion arm in arm. Wandering the snow-covered grounds, they would be far removed from the public eye, and the contact provided an important source of comfort. The cold brought out a rosy tinge in Riza's cheeks, and her hair tumbled over her shoulders. The part of him that noticed how incredibly beautiful she was ignored the nagging inner voice that told him denial was childish, allowing him a small slice of time during which to imagine that she had retired in order to marry him.

Snow began to fall again and Roy instinctively drew Riza closer to him, glancing over at her as he did. Snowflakes caught in her eyelashes and he felt a sudden urge to kiss them away. For the first time in many, many years, he was free to do so without repercussion. She seemed puzzled when he stopped, but the moment he took her face in his hands, she relaxed into his touch, closing her eyes as he leaned in. Her lashes were softer than the snowflakes, and he brushed his lips over them gently. Her sigh was just audible over the soft wind that sent flurries spiraling around them. Her eyes fluttered open when he pulled back, and the pain in them broke Roy's heart. He kissed her forehead. "No matter what happens, remember you were my queen first," he murmured into her bangs.

"I always will be," she said in a voice rough with cold and emotion. One gloved hand came to rest on his. He hadn't even realized he was trembling until she steadied him.

He wanted to thank her for that, to tell her that he didn't know how he would handle losing her. She had been his lifeline through so many things. Who would be there for him when she was gone? Before he could be overwhelmed by the surge of emotion that followed the realization that none of his friends or family would be able to ground him the way she did, he kissed her again. Her lips were chapped from the winter air, but her breath was warm and her tongue soft. The urgency with which they kissed only made his heart ache more. There was a countdown on moments like this now, and he had a sudden fear that their last kiss would happen before he knew what it was; he was terrified that he wouldn't appreciate it enough. When he pulled back to look into Riza's eyes again, he vowed to savor every single one.

"We can make this work, you know," he said as they made their way back toward the house. She gave him a look that said she wasn't entirely convinced, but when she came to his room that night and fell asleep in his arms, he knew that he had a chance of holding himself together in the coming months.

* * *

A month later, the wedding preparations began in earnest and Riza's façade began to crumble. Roy found himself taking time off more and more frequently to stay in bed holding her while she struggled to hold herself together. "I'm scared," she whispered late one morning, at a very un-Riza-like time to still be in bed. "What if he's like his father? What if he's like _my_ father?"

Roy had no answer for that, so he merely stroked her hair and pulled her tighter against his chest. As much as it hurt to know he would lose her, it was infinitely worse to watch her suffer like this and know that there wasn't a single fucking thing he could do about it except to listen and to hold her. They had been over these same fears many, many times already, and he thought he knew what she would say next: that she was sorry for keeping him from his duties and that she was ready to get up. But not this time. This time, she buried her face in his neck and he could feel the tears she could no longer hold back as they dripped down onto his skin, burning it. He had eaten his own words many, many times over the years, but now he hated himself for having said he wanted to see her tears again. He had never hoped to see them like this.

"What is it?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer even though he knew he had to hear it, had to provide whatever small assurances he could, even if they only took the form of rubbing her back.

She shifted and propped herself on her elbows beside him after hurriedly drying her eyes. "You do realize that you're the only man I have ever been intimate."

"I am aware of that, yes," Roy said.

"I never wanted that to change. You were my first and only and quite frankly, I've never found myself drawn to another person like I am with you. There isn't a single person I trust the way I trust you," she said, adjusting her position to lightly trace the muscles of his upper arm.

"Likewise," Roy said. "I have no intentions of changing that when you leave either, if that helps at all."

"It does. It broke my heart at first, watching you on all those dates. Even though I knew what they were, even though I had no right to call you mine anymore…" She attempted a laugh but it sounded more like she was choking on all the tears she refused to show now that her face was no longer concealed. "I was such a fool."

"No, you were human," Roy said. He tucked her hair behind her ears. "And I have always been yours. I always will be."

"Please, Roy, I hate to ask this of you, but I think it might make it easier to handle the fears of exposing myself to another man if you can promise that you will remember that I will always be yours as well. Whoever this prince is, he will never have my heart. That will always stay in Amestris. With you." She lowered her head until her bangs separated their eyes and Roy reached out to tilt her chin up, smiling at her sheepish expression.

"I promise," he said, "as long as you promise to understand that the thought of another man touching you the way I do makes me want to tear him limb from limb."

Riza gave a laugh that was more of a hiccough then leaned down to kiss his cheek. "There is a part of me that hopes you will do just that."

Tilting his head to catch her lips, Roy kissed her deeply, sliding his hands down to the hem of her nightgown. Before he could lift it, they were interrupted by a knock at the door and they broke apart, scooting to opposite sides of the bed.

"Riza, if you're decent, you have a visitor," Grumman's voice said, sounding almost gleeful.

"Her room is down the hall, sir," Roy called back.

There was a faint chuckle. "You can't fool me. I've been waiting for the day the two of you announced my first great grandchild ever since you showed up in East City. Riza, put your clothes on so you can greet your guest. She's come a long way."

Roy and Riza exchanged a glance of abject horror at the realization that their sneaking around hadn't exactly gone unnoticed. They both dressed quickly and made their way downstairs to the entry hall where Rebecca Catalina stood, still wearing her coat. She ran to Riza, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry I took so long to get here," she said. Roy thought he could hear Riza's bones cracking.

Riza returned the embrace. "It's fine, Rebecca. I know things have been busy for you lately, and you've still made time to call me."

"But you never say anything when I do," Rebecca said. "The Fuhrer sent for me to help you pick out a dress."

Even though her back was to him, Roy knew Riza was glaring daggers at her grandfather. "I appreciate your offer but there are still three months before the wedding." Rebecca's face fell and Riza relented. "But I suppose the sooner I find a dress, the less I have to think about the wedding."

"Aren't you planning it?" Rebecca asked.

"No, some of my grandfather's staff as well as a few Drachman emissaries are taking care of that," Riza said.

Rebecca looked at her with exaggerated disappointment. "You know, I'd always hoped we'd plan our weddings together. Do I even get to be the maid of honor or does this prince of yours have a sister?"

Riza stiffened. "You are my maid of honor, but I would appreciate it if you didn't refer to that man as my prince. I am only doing this for the sake of our country."

"Whatever you say, Riza. I've told you before that you have a way with powerful men. First Mustang, then Bradley, then back to Mustang because Bradley's replacement was your grandfather." Rebecca's voice was lighthearted, but the time when such teasing might have been recognized as such was long gone and Roy flinched. He and Rebecca may not have been exactly friends, but he still felt a stab of pity for anyone who ended up on the receiving end of Riza's anger.

The room seemed to fill with electricity, as though Riza were transmuting the very air around them. "You know perfectly well why I have stayed by his side through all these years. If I could continue to do so, I would in an instant, but I have no choice."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Rebecca said sadly. She stepped back, though her hands remained on Riza's arms. "What happened to all those speeches about choices and consequences?"

"The consequence for selfishness is this case would mean the deaths of innocent Amestrians. I have no right to make a choice like that." Riza stepped away from Rebecca and looked back at Roy, holding his gaze long enough for the pair of them to communicate silently that this was a fitting punishment for their selfish years of stolen nights together.

When they finally left, Roy left as well. He needed something to keep his mind off of what they would be doing. And so, for the first time since his world had been shaken, he found himself at the cemetery, sitting in the snow before Hughes's grave. "Riza's picking out her wedding dress today. And no, it won't end up on my floor. She's—she's marrying someone else and I need you here to help me through it. When I lost you, I had her, but without her… I already feel completely lost." The grave stayed silent and Roy felt all the emotions he had been struggling to hold back for Riza's sake come tumbling loose.

"I can kiss her whenever I want now. Sometimes I try to pretend she was discharged in preparation for our wedding, but I know that's not true and I want to gut every last Drachman for daring to treat her like a pawn. You knew her better than this asshole does. He has no idea how witty she is, how kindhearted, how strong. How completely selfless." Roy scrubbed his face with his sleeve. He wouldn't cry. He just wouldn't. Not now. "Life has been so unkind to her, and I kept telling myself that one day I would be able to give her the happiness I always wanted for her, but now –now she's going to be miserable just to keep my plans for the country from falling apart."

If Hughes were here, he'd probably say something about the power of love and how Riza would scare the prince off and be home and divorced before the honeymoon was over. Maybe make a joke about how Roy should knock her up first so he could finally have a child of his own. Somehow none of this was even remotely reassuring. Maybe it would have been if he could have heard Hughes's voice, but his bones were silent beneath the earth. Without another word, Roy stood and turned away. He didn't even bother wiping the snow from his coat before leaving the cemetery for a less introspective place.

Christmas's bar was bustling with customers trying to escape the cold. As soon as Roy settled in his usual seat, Christmas brought him bourbon on the rocks. He hadn't come to see her very often lately, but she had managed to get the gist of his situation out of him, and she had nothing but sympathy for him.

"What happened, Roy-boy?" she asked as he stared into his drink.

"Catalina's in town today. They're shopping for a wedding dress."

Christmas drew in a breath through her teeth. "I'll find you something stronger."

"Thanks. I'll make sure to get a flask of it for the wedding."

As she poured the bottle from the very back of the top shelf, she shook her head. "Don't do anything you might regret later. I'd hate to see you wind up rotting away in a Drachma prison."

"Wouldn't make it that far," Roy said, downing his bourbon and setting the glass aside to make room for the new concoction. "She'd kill me before she let that happen. Absinthe, huh?"

Christmas nodded and Roy took an experimental swig of the bright green liquid. It was a bit eccentric for his taste, but it suited his current purpose just fine. The drunker he got, the better, even if it would earn him a disapproving click of the tongue from Riza when they met up again. It was easier than the prospect of dealing with wedding talk sober, and Riza's dress was just about the last part of the wedding he wanted to think about. It would be high enough to cover her tattoo, but when it came off—"Can I get another of these?" He waved the empty glass.

With one eyebrow raised in concern, Christmas refilled the glass and returned it to Roy, who drank it even faster than the first, trying to wash away the images of Riza's wedding night spent tangled with a faceless stranger. He wondered (half hoped as he downed a third maybe fourth glass of absinthe) if she would dare refuse her husband. He feared that it wouldn't matter if she did and crimson streaked across his hand. The blood rushing in his ears dampened the sound of shattering glass as well as the pain from the resultant lacerations. It took a moment to register the blood on his hand as his own. A hand on his shoulder led him from the bar to the back room where Vanessa cleaned and bandaged his hand, both of them sitting cross legged on the floor. When the wound was taken care of, she led him like a child up to his old bedroom and helped him out of his shoes and under the covers.

Riza was there when he woke. Her hair was long—had she grown it out over the summer? No, that wasn't right. That was then. This was now. Her hand was gentle and cool against his feverish cheek, and her expression was every bit as sympathetic as it was stern. He wanted to tell her how perfect she was, but all he could manage was, "Beau'ful."

"Please don't destroy yourself because of me," she said, caressing his face with those steady fingers. "Christmas was worried for you. She went to help another customer and a new girl kept filling your glass every time you held it out for more. By the time she got back, you were on your fifth. It's a wonder you're awake." Her hand was in his hair now, and the sensation was so much more pleasant to focus on than the words. He wanted to lose himself in the cadence of her voice and the way she was touching him, and the rest of her lecture slipped in and out of focus.

"Sorr' I 'cked 'p," he slurred when she fell silent again. "'On't happ'n 'gain."

She unstuck his bangs from his forehead and leaned down to kiss it. "Good. I won't always be here to take care of you."

"'S why I's drinkin'."

"I have to call Grandfather, but I promise I'll be back after that," she said. As she walked away, he noticed that she was barefoot. There was no sign of Catalina.

When Riza returned, she slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed, scooting closer to wrap her arm around him protectively. "Go back to sleep," she said in a soothing tone. "I'll still be here when you wake up."

And she was. As good as her word, Riza was wrapped around him, snoring softly when he woke to a painful flood of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains. His skull felt as though it had been sawed in half only to be wrapped up and held back together by bandages that were far too tight. He tried to sit up but the room spun violently and he lay back down. He was getting too old for this.

Riza's body stiffened against his as she stretched and yawned. "Morning," she said. "How's the hangover?"

"I want to die," he said.

She patted his shoulder and moved her hand to stroke his hair. "I can bring you a glass of water if you like."

"You're an angel." Roy buried his face in the pillow to hide the light as Riza got up.

Several minutes passed before she returned, the familiar weight on the bed prompting him to sit up properly. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing rumpled, but he had never seen anything quite so beautiful. The tray loaded with heaps of greasy breakfast food, coffee, juice, and water didn't hurt either. They shared the meal in silence, much to Roy's relief. No matter how much he loved Riza's voice, the noise that came from eating was already more than he could tolerate. How was it that only ten years ago he'd been able drink Hughes under the table and still make it to work in the morning?

"Roy," Riza began carefully once they had finished eating, "we need to talk about yesterday."

"I told you I won't do it again. I learned my lesson." He massaged his temples to emphasize his point.

"I'm pleased to hear that. I only hope your resolve holds up when I leave." She shifted against the headboard and folded her hands in her lap. "I found a dress yesterday."

He didn't want to hear about it, but he wasn't about to shut her out, and certainly not in such a childish way. "I bet it looks beautiful on you."

"Rebecca says it does," Riza said, looking down at her hands. "But its purpose detracted from its beauty for me. It could be the most beautiful wedding in history and that wouldn't change the fact that it is nothing but a lie."

"I hope it rains," Roy said.

"I don't. It's going to take place outdoors and the dress would be completely sheer if it got wet."

Roy frowned. "That's right. Grumman did mention something about constructing a pavilion on one of the hills outside the city. Although, I'm certain it will rain one way or another."

"You know, I always imagined you would cry at my wedding, though it seems I was entirely wrong about the reason for it," Riza said, the bitterness of her words written on her face as well.

Unsure of how to respond now that his heart ached more than his head, Roy kissed her. It was a soft kiss, every movement of his lips against hers meant as a reassurance, a comfort. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her, pulling back from the kiss to lean his forehead against hers, and at last he found his words. "I'm sorry, Riza. This is harder on you than it is on me and I don't know how to help you. Whenever you need me the most, I'm useless."

"You aren't useless," Riza said. She returned his embrace, fingers digging into his back. "I couldn't get through this without you. I know you're every bit as heartbroken as I am and you still do everything you can for me."

"And then I go and drink myself into oblivion," he said.

"I never said you were perfect," she said, though the disapproval was heavy in her voice.

"I'm going to try to be. For you." He kissed her again to seal his words as a promise.

With a short rap on the doorframe to announce her presence Christmas said, "There's a call for you, Riza."

"I should take it," she said to Roy. He followed her downstairs on unsteady legs and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed while she spoke with her grandfather, each "yes" and "of course" sounding more anxious than the last. She spoke only to acknowledge that she was listening, and as soon as she hung up, she said, "We need to go back."

They put their coats and shoes on, thanked Christmas for giving them a room for the night, and left. Roy had his arm around Riza's shoulders, but it was every bit as much to support himself as it was to show affection.

"What does Grumman need?" Roy asked when he and Riza were alone in the back of a cab.

"The Czar wants to discuss the terms of the agreement between Drachma and Amestris in person. He will be bringing his son," Riza said.

Roy's hands clenched involuntarily. "When will they arrive?"

"Next week."

* * *

While Riza was out getting acquainted with her fiancé, Roy was trapped in a series of endless meetings with Grumman and the Czar. It was hard to focus on the matters at hand when he spent much of the time fantasizing about setting the man's beard ablaze with a snap of his fingers. Ugly bastard could use a makeover. It made Roy's skin crawl to imagine what the guy's son looked like, and he had to work on a half-forgotten breathing technique he had learned from Master Hawkeye to calm himself at the thought of how Riza's day was going.

"General Mustang," Grumman said, snapping Roy from his increasingly dark thoughts.

"Yes, sir?"

"Please escort our guest to my mansion."

"Your mansion, sir?" Roy asked weakly, hoping he had heard incorrectly.

"Of course. Our guests deserve the finest accommodations. Wouldn't you agree?"

They could sleep in the manure outside a bar for all Roy cared, but he smiled politely, playing the game that had become second nature to him over the years. "Of course. I had merely assumed that they intended to reserve the presidential suite at a hotel."

The Czar looked almost puzzled. "It is a large mansion, is it not?"

"Yes, it is." It would be a scorching day in Drachma before Roy called the man before him "sir."

"Then would it not make sense for myself and my son to stay with our future family?"

"It would, although I do question how appropriate it is for an unwed couple to be living under the same roof," Roy mused.

The Czar bristled. "My son is an honorable man. But I cannot say the same about you. Your reputation precedes you, General Mustang. If you can sleep under the same roof without any inappropriate advances toward my son's betrothed, then there is no reason to question my son's ability to do the same."

"Please excuse my rudeness," Roy said, struggling to conceal his efforts not to laugh. "I can attest to both my own honor and that of my former subordinate."

"Then there should be no trouble." The words were a threat every bit as much as they were an end to the conversation, and Roy led the Czar from the room without a sound.

Bringing him to the mansion felt to Roy like an invasion of his privacy and he showed the Czar to an empty room as far away from Riza's and his own as possible. He was about to leave for Christmas's bar when he heard Riza's voice. She was in the parlor, her ankles crossed beneath the antique sofa on which she sat. Leaning forward in a nearby chair, hanging on her every word, was the prince. He had the kind of face that made people want to punch him. Or, rather, made Roy want to punch him. His square jaw would probably break a hand before it gave way, but that was a small matter to Roy. When he cleared his throat to announce his presence, Riza shot him a warning look and the prince stood.

"Hello," he said, holding out a hand. "You must be General Mustang. Riza told me you're staying here as well. I am Peter and I hope we will be good friends."

Roy shook his hands, keeping a pleasant mask while beneath the surface he seethed at the very idea of becoming friends with this—this—this _Peter._ "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," Roy said. It was amazing how cordial a lie could sound when it wasn't through gritted teeth. Now all he needed to perfect it was a truth. "I hope you will take good care of my adjutant."

"I most certainly will. I have been getting to know her and she is a very remarkable woman." Peter glanced over at Riza with admiration that Roy couldn't begrudge him.

"That she is. I've known her since we were young," Roy said.

Peter nodded. "She told me you have always been close. I am terribly sorry that the two of you will be so far apart, so please accept an open invitation to Drachma whenever you wish to see her."

It was just about the last thing Roy had expected to hear, and he stared at Peter dumbstruck for a moment. Had the Czar really managed to produce someone so completely different from himself or had Peter's mother kept her secrets well? Roy suspected the latter. "That's very thoughtful of you, Peter. Thank you."

"It is the least I can do to make the transition more bearable for Riza. And for her friends."

Before Roy could answer, Riza was at his side. "Peter extended the same offer to Rebecca," she explained. "I know we won't be every day the way we have been, but at least this won't really be goodbye."

It was a small relief, but he was willing to accept it for now. What he wanted most at the moment was to get Riza alone so they could have a proper conversation. Turning his attention back to Peter, he said, "I brought your father back with me."

"I hope he was not too unkind to you," Peter said. "He has no love for Amestrians, I am sorry to say."

"The sentiment was mutual," Roy said.

Peter's face fell. "I hope that I can change your mind. My father is a hard man, but I hope for a different future for our countries. I also hope to become close with the people who are most important to my wife."

"That's…surprising to hear from a Drachman," Roy said.

"Then I will use my time in your country to convince you otherwise. We are not all like my father. Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse me, I must speak with him." Peter took Riza's hand, kissed it, and left the room.

As soon as his footsteps faded away, Roy said, "I hate him."

Riza shook her head with a sad, knowing smile. "I was afraid you might, though I had hoped for a different response."

"I'd hate him so much less if he were easier to hate. If we had met under different circumstances, we might have even been friends," Roy said. "I'm relieved that he isn't a monster, and that he will treat you well."

"…But you're afraid you'll lose me to him," Riza finished.

"You're upset with me," Roy said.

"I like him well enough, but that doesn't mean I want to marry him, or that I could ever feel the same kind of love for him that I do for you. Intimacy will be a duty. We may become friends, yes, but we will never truly be lovers." Riza reached out as though she might cup Roy's face in her hands but pulled back at the last second, apparently thinking better of it.

"And what about him? He seems very fond of you," Roy said.

Riza looked down. "Yes, I noticed that as well."

With a pit in his stomach, he realized that they would never again be truly alone. "Where does this leave us?" he asked mournfully, longing to reach out and touch her hair—to prove to himself that she was still here.

"I don't know."

Those words seemed to echo in Roy's head that night as he looked up at the ceiling in the dark. His room felt so much larger, so much emptier, without Riza in it. His bed was much colder without her in it. He traded his pillow for hers, but he knew her scent would be gone by morning, replaced by his own. Reluctantly, he switched them back, punching his pillow until it was fluffed enough that he no longer had an excuse. Burying his face in it, he fell asleep before he even realized it.

This time, Riza was not there when he woke.

Of course, she was there in the small moments. Already neatly dressed at breakfast, inviting him on outings on his days off, slipping through his fingers before he had a chance to be even a hair closer to her than he was when Peter was around. It was just like the first time they had been stationed in Central, or it would have been had they not at least gone into that particular fire knowing they would come out together on the other side. He wished that he could take back every one of the dates he had paraded around so callously. Yes, it had been for the sake of gathering intelligence while establishing a reputation that could hide his true ambitions, but it had been hard on Riza. Even though she had assured him she understood, he had still noticed the pain it had caused her to see so many different women on his arm when it was a place she would have to wait many years to take. And now, seeing her on Peter's felt like some sort of well-deserved retribution, although that didn't make it any easier on him.

For the first time in his life, he had begun looking forward to Catalina's visits, and so, one March morning when the first warmth of spring was in the air, he found himself waiting on the platform at Central Station with Riza and Peter. At this point, it was a constant battle to keep himself from accidentally starting to like the man, and Catalina provided a very useful service in the form of never shutting up. As soon as Catalina stepped off the train, she rushed toward them, giving Riza a hug that almost sent them toppling backward into the crowd.

As they started to leave, however, Roy noticed something different. Rebecca was talking faster than a train but Riza was looking at him. Puzzled, he looked back over his shoulder to find Rebecca and Peter engrossed in a conversation. When he raised an eyebrow at Riza, she shrugged, tilted her head. _Isn't it obvious?_ she seemed to say. Of course. Typical Catalina. Always talking about how worthless the military was for finding a decent man with enough money to give her a comfortable life. It might be funny if it weren't so cruel that the two of them would be so much happier if they could only trade places.

"So, tell me, Peter, how did you get lucky enough to marry Riza?" Catalina asked as they sat around a table in the sunshine outside a café.

"It was not a matter of luck," he said. "Though I am very happy to have met her, the idea of an arranged marriage was not my wish, but it was the only way to prevent my younger sister from taking my place and marrying the Fuhrer. Lena supported me in speaking out against the war and father wanted to punish both of us."

"It's a good thing you volunteered in her place. My grandfather never would have agreed to such a horrible arrangement," Riza said.

Peter cocked his head slightly, brow furrowed in confusion. "But he agreed to our marriage."

"He was against it," Riza said, stirring her coffee aimlessly, "but it was my decision, and our marriage will be significantly different than one between an old man and a young woman."

Peter glanced briefly at Roy before returning his attention to Riza, seeming very aware that Grumman was not the only person to harbor objections to this arrangement. If Roy had any doubts as to Peter's understanding of the situation, they were obliterated later that evening when Roy looked up from his book to find Peter in the library door.

"I hope I am not disturbing you," he said.

Roy set the book aside. "Did you need something?"

"I wish to speak with you regarding your relationship with Riza."

 _This ought to be fun._ "Have a seat," Roy said.

Once Peter had settled into a chair near Roy's, he looked nervously back at the empty doorway before saying, "I know how the two of you feel about each other."

"Pardon?" Roy said.

"There is no need to play innocent. I have seen the way she looks at you, and you at her. It is not the type of love to be so easily overlooked by a husband."

Roy narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening me?"

"I am merely making an observation," Peter said. "I have also noticed that your bedroom is close to hers while mine is on a separate floor entirely."

"She was my bodyguard when we arrived. If you're so damn worried about whose bed she's been sleeping in when you've barely known her for a month, maybe you should think about how I'll feel when she's sleeping in yours." Roy slammed his book down on the table and left the room. Let him go running to daddy; let him go running to Grumman. Roy didn't care anymore. If this ended the arrangement, so be it. All those stories Riza had told him, half-asleep in the summer heat, came swirling back through his mind. Riza was worth fighting a war for. She may not have been a beauty of legend, but she was to him, and she was so much more than that. She was worth so much more than any prince of a frozen wasteland could give her.

He stopped when he realized he was outside of Riza's bedroom. The door was closed and he knocked, still riding the high of his fury. She opened it, looking so beautiful in her rumpled pajamas that he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, smiling triumphantly when she kissed him back.

"Spend the night with me," Roy said breathlessly.

"Roy, I can't. You know we can't. If someone catches us, it would mean war," she said, regret coloring every word.

"I would fight a thousand wars for you, Riza." He took her hands in his. "Come to bed with me."

She took a step back, pulling her hands away as she did. "You're being foolish. I can't let you throw away everything we've worked for. Goodnight."

The finality with which she had spoken cut him deeply, but when she closed the door on him, he thought he could hear her crying. His heart told him to stay, to comfort her, but he knew she wouldn't let him no matter how much she wanted to. He went to bed without bothering to change his clothes. It still felt far too big without her.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Roy distanced himself from the rest of the household. Peter never mentioned Roy's outburst and the wedding preparations continued as planned. Flowers were chosen, suits were fitted, and all the while, Roy felt as though he were moving in slow motion as the rest of the world moved around him at a dizzying pace. Gazebos were constructed at the end of April, looking to Roy like skeletons: the monsters that haunted his dreams these days. With only two days left before the wedding, Grumman, Peter, and the Czar stayed late at headquarters, discussing some dispute or other over the terms of peace, and for the first time since she had shut him out, Roy found himself alone with Riza.

She sat on the edge of her bed, head bowed forward until her face was hidden by hair and shadows. Roy cleared his throat from the doorway and she looked up with an intensity that surprised him. She had seemed as listless and dazed as he felt lately, and for her to look at him like that sent him reeling.

"Riza, we've hardly talked lately and I'm worried about—" Before he had a chance to finish, her mouth was on his and her hand was tangled in his shirt, dragging him into the room. He kissed her back, attempting to make up for all lost time—past and future.

When—between kisses and gasps for air as her nimble fingers undid the buttons of his shirt—he asked what she was doing, she simply said that she had made too many mistakes in her life to live with the regret of not spending one last night with him. For just an instant, she looked almost fragile, but the moment passed and she was made of steel again and she was guiding him toward her bed. They moved together with perfect fluidity before falling asleep still wrapped up in each other.

The night before the wedding, Roy didn't go home at all. The rehearsal dinner was held in the ballroom of the finest hotel in Central, and as soon as it was over, he went to Christmas's, knowing that not even Riza would follow him there tonight.

"I'm not giving you a drink," Christmas said before he even opened his mouth to ask for one. "If you can't face them again tonight, you might as well go to bed."

He did as she said, resisting his urge to stomp up the stairs the way he had when she had given him the same instruction as a child. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his old bed, trying not to think about how Riza had been here with him last time. They would never share a bed again, and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat at the realization.

An hour before sunrise, he gave up hope of trying to sleep. Dressing quickly, he hurried downstairs and out into the cool morning. Central was quiet under the grey sky, leaving too much room in his head for his thoughts to roam through the topics he had been desperately trying to avoid. She would surely be getting ready now, with Rebecca helping to fix her hair and makeup. He had seen some of the lingerie she had been given and he tried not to think about how someone else would be the one to see it on her.

Sunrise found him sitting on the edge of the river, attempting to skip stones. No matter how many times Riza had tried to teach him, he never managed to do more than throw rocks at the water and watch them sink. It turned out that doing that on purpose was much more cathartic. "Stupid—fucking—goddamn—son—of—a—bitch!" he screamed, punctuating each word with another rock flung at the river's surface. He wanted to hate Peter, wanted to feel justified in the anger he felt toward him. He wanted Riza there to tell him to stop, wanted Hughes at his side to hold his arms down until he was calm again. He needed them both, and he had lost them both. Even though Peter had promised he could visit, Roy had a feeling that offer had been rescinded after the true nature of his and Riza's relationship had been revealed.

He stood and attempted to wipe the dew from his pants, wondering how obvious the grass stains would be on the black fabric. His legs were stiff as he walked around the perimeter of the city toward the hill with the skeletal gazebos. Bells rang out as he approached, signaling just how late he was. He could see guests in their chairs already, and he wondered if anyone had gone looking for him. Bells rang out, signaling the arrival of the bride. He looked around until he spotted her, arm in arm with Grumman as he escorted her toward the aisle. Her dress was surprisingly elaborate, like she was wearing a cake rather than a dress. Elicia Hughes led the way with a basket of flower petals, and Catalina followed, holding Riza's train.

The world seemed to spin as he watched her walk away from him. At the end of the aisle, he would lose her forever and he couldn't even bear to be there to lend his support. Though the sky held no clouds, it began to rain. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Maybe there was some chance of stopping the wedding. He remembered those cheap paperbacks that had always been left lying around when he was growing up. What was it the officiator had always said? _If anyone objects to this wedding_ —something like that. He couldn't remember hearing anything like that at Hughes's wedding, but a tiny bit of hope welled up in his chest and he started to run.

Out of breath, he had to stop in the middle aisle, bending forward with his hands on his knees and fully aware of all the eyes on him. When he looked up, the first thing he noticed was that Riza's were full of tears. He wanted to kiss them all away, to hold her and make her so happy that she never, ever looked this miserable again.

"Riza," he said, half panting but at least able to stand up straight once more. "Riza, wait. There has to be some other way."

"There isn't," she said in a choked voice. "You know I wouldn't be doing this if I had the choice."

From his seat in the front row, Grumman stood. "There is another way," he said. "Over the past few months, I've realized that I'm getting far too old for this job. I had planned to name General Mustang, this sweaty gentleman you see before you in the middle of the aisle, as my successor. He bears no relation to my Riza, which would completely invalidate the terms of our peace, would it not?"

The Czar gave a noncommittal grunt.

"As I suspected all along, my friend Ivan here suggested this arrangement knowing perfectly well that I won't last too much longer. At first, I was going to refuse it, but when Riza volunteered, I realized there was a better plan." Gesturing toward Peter, he said, "This young man has been nothing short of admirable, and I'm certain that he doesn't need a bride to agree to form an alliance with Amestris."

"You are correct, sir," Peter said when Grumman paused for a response.

"Do you love Riza?" Grumman asked.

Peter looked at her, clearly concerned by the tears she was fighting a losing battle to conceal. "Only as well as a man can love a woman who will never return such a sentiment."

"Then it's settled," Grumman said. "There's no longer any reason for the two of you to get married. There's still a bit of red tape to get through, but for all intents and purposes, your Fuhrer is the grass-stained mess in the aisle. It's your move, Ivan, but don't bother addressing me with your complaints. I'm retired." He sat down again, still looking at Roy, who, quite frankly, felt a little lost. He had never expected the title to fall on him at a moment when he felt about as dignified as a dirty sock.

Still breathing hard, Roy turned his attention to the Czar. "Tell me, in the time you've spent in our country, do you really think a war is necessary?"

The Czar snorted. "That old coot may play the part of a fool, but he has trapped me all the same. Here I am trapped in a hostile country, with my own son turned against me. What choice do I have but to go peacefully?"

"If you still require a marriage, I think I know of a willing suitor for your son," Roy said. "Rebecca Catalina, would—"

"Excuse me, Mustang," Catalina snapped, glaring daggers at him from her place at Riza's side. "Your fancy new office doesn't give you the right to speak to me." Turning to Peter, with a much softer expression and tone, she added, "I'd really rather spend more time with you first."

Peter looked slightly flustered by that. "You—you have feelings for me?" he asked.

She shrugged. "You're a much better man than the ones around here."

"Perhaps I will remain in Central for a while after all. I am assuming this wedding has been called off, yes?"

"Not so fast," Grumman said, getting up again. "I didn't fork over an outrageous amount of money for nothing. I only want to see my granddaughter's wedding day once, and if you will recall her recent discharge from the Amestrian military, it seems we already have a groom for her."

Roy looked around for a moment, puzzled before he realized Grumman was referring to him. _Will you take my granddaughter as your wife? She will become the future First Lady._ So many years had passed since then, and Roy no longer had to brush aside those kinds of statements as thinking too far ahead. She was only a few meters away. Her face was blotchy and stained with tears and her dress was, quite frankly, ridiculous and un-Riza-like, but she was still the most incredible woman in the world, and he had been dreaming of this day for a very long time.

Slowly, he made his way down the aisle until he could kneel at her feet. "Riza Hawkeye, I know proposing to you at your own wedding is kind of shitty timing, but will you marry me?"

"Of course I will," she said. Her tears threatened to return, but this time, the emotion that choked her voice was the kind of joy he had feared she would never allow herself to experience.

When he stood again , he pulled her into his arms, holding her as tight as he could to reassure them both that this was real, that they were here and they were together. She would remain at his side as promised, and this time there would be no need to hide their feelings behind closed doors. As he clutched her to his chest, he whispered, "I love you."

"I love you," she echoed. The words sounded somehow even more incredible spoken under the midmorning sun, surrounded by friends and dignitaries and military officials. The ring she wore would have to be traded for another, non-Drachman one but that was a small matter. His mother's old ring would fit her perfectly.

When they finally stepped back from each other, joining hands rather than embracing, Grumman cleared his throat. "Get on with the ceremony," he ordered.

Roy couldn't focus on the words. As far as he was concerned, the only thing in the world that mattered was the woman who stood before him, and the life that he would finally be able to share with her completely. Her brown eyes shone with overwhelming joy mixed with love and a tiny bit of lingering disbelief that this had gone from one of the unhappiest days of her life to the happiest in only a matter of minutes.

The speech was winding down, and when it came time to say the vows, Roy was prepared. "From the moment you promised to follow me into hell, I knew we would be together for the rest of our lives. You were my queen, my love, my everything. I had always hoped that, when I became Fuhrer, we would be able to marry, and now —" He struggled to choke back another wave of tears, though this one was much happier than the last. "And now we are. I would never have made it this far without you. Today, I finally get to accomplish two dreams, and let me tell you, I'm looking to the honeymoon more than the paperwork."

She laughed and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, even though it was still joined with Roy's. "I still don't think I deserve this kind of happiness, but I'm so happy I get to stay here with you forever."

"With the power vested in me by the nation of Amestris, I pronounce you husband and wife," the minister said.

"Now go on and kiss the bride before I fall down dead," Grumman called.

Moving one of his hands to her back and the other to her face, Roy dipped Riza backward, kissing her for what felt like the very first time judging by the way his heart was hammering. She kissed him back, and he could taste all of her hopes for the future on her lips, and in the way her tongue moved gently against his own. He wasn't aware how long they kissed, only that it would never have been long enough before they were hustled away to another pavilion for their first dance as husband and wife.

As the band played a slow, romantic melody, Riza leaned her head on Roy's shoulder and he swept her across the dance floor, holding her so close he could feel her heart beating as wildly as his own. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. It never ceased to amaze him at how wonderful it felt to hold the most important part of his world in his arms, and as he looked out over friends and colleagues and even Peter who were mouthing their congratulations and waving bet money for him to see, he grinned into Riza's hair. It wasn't his new rank that made him the luckiest man in Amestris.

The reception passed in a flurry of well-wishers and champagne toasts, and by the end of it, he was so exhausted, he could barely stay on his feet, and it was in a pleasurable sort of haze that he and Riza were helped into the back of a carriage bound for the bridal suite at some hotel. When he looked over at her, he could see the dark circles under her eyes that must have matched the ones beneath his. He kissed her temple gently then leaned his head against hers, clutching her hand as though afraid that she might disappear while he slept. Their honeymoon might have to be put on hold while they made up for the sleepless night before, but that was a small matter. They had all the time in the world to make up for it.


End file.
